Taking Care of His Blogger
by ThisShipSailsItsSelf
Summary: Sherlocks POV. If Sherlock could grade himself on taking care of John, he'd give himself an A. Others would not be so generous... Johnlock Friendship, Romance if you yada yada yada... you know the drill by now. Chapter 5: Epilogue! Warning, you may drown in the fluff.
1. Chapter 1

Taking Care of His Blogger

Sherlock Holmes was in his element. 46 hours and 32 minutes into the investigation, and all that stood between him and the brief but oh-so addictive rush of a case closed was evidence. Luckily for the walls of 221B, not to mention John's sanity, this criminal had proven himself to be particularly clever, and hadn't actually left any. A rare achievement; _definitely an 8. _Well he _had_ left some, but nothing D.I. Lestrade could take. Annoying, but he did love the clever ones, and this one had managed to keep the ennui at bay for almost two whole days. All that was left was to catch him in the act. He looked over at John, who was crouched down at his right, Browning in hand, with a smile on his face.

But something was off. He managed to resist the urge for all of five seconds before he did the one thing John hated most: he deduced him. Illness? Possible, but unlikely given the lack of symptoms. Tired then? Sherlock thought back. John had managed about two hours the night before, and he had only just come home from a long shift at work when they'd received a call from Lestrade. Yes, that was it. John was clearly exhausted now that Sherlock had a lull in the action to properly look at him. Bags under his eyes, ache in his leg and shoulder beginning to set in, judging by his constant shifting and flexing. A nice shot of adrenaline would fix that nicely. And who better to give him exactly what he needed then Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective, certifiable genius, resident madman? _Who says I can't take care of John?_ Sherlock preened under the thought.

"What are you looking so smug about then?" John asked suspiciously.

Sherlock briefly considered telling the truth, but quickly dismissed the thought. "Merely pleased this case is almost over, I have a few experiments I want to begin at home." _So much more fun to leave John in the dark._

"Leave it to you to already be on to the next puzzle. Don't you ever slow down?" His tone was exasperated, but Sherlock could see the amusement in his eyes.

"Not if I can help it, no." He responded with a twitch at the corner of his mouth. A suggestion of a smirk, but nothing too telling. Though he knew if anyone could read him, it was John.

None of that mattered now though, because the criminal was suddenly in view. _Ah, yes, obviously. Mr. Swanson. _Exactly as he'd told Lestrade._ Would they ever learn_? He glanced at John, and flicked his eyes in the direction of Mr. Swanson. John followed his eyes and then turned back and nodded his understanding. Sherlock allowed himself a moment to enjoy the electricity in the air. Then he sent a text to Lestrade and attempted to wait an appropriate amount of time for him to have received the text and begin to mobilize the police. He doubled his resolve from last time and lasted an entire 10 seconds before the temptation grew unbearable.

"Now." He breathed.

**A/N Okay, so this is the story I've been attempting to write since before 'A Complex Man.' I'm posting this first part, even though I'm not particularly happy with it, to try and motivate myself. I've already got two more chapters more or less written, and knowing how I am about updates once I feel like I'm keeping people waiting, this should be the push I need to keep typing! Hopefully they'll be up soon :) **

**P.S. If you see any holes in the story, let me know. I'm kind of a 'choppy' writer, which basically means I write in chunks and then fill in the gaps later…which can lead to accidentally overlooked plot-holes and inconsistencies :s ****I am trying to work on this, it's just that the 'filling in the gaps' bit is just so boring compared to the major plot!**

**Please review! This is a new style for me, so let me know what you think! Worth continuing? Or am I a mad-woman for stepping out of my usual style?**


	2. Chapter 2

Together, they sprung out of their hiding place. No plan, of course, but he and John had reached a point where they didn't particularly need one. They had gone through the same basic steps enough times that a sort of 'muscle memory' had been achieved when it came to catching criminals. Sherlock stepped forward, while john stayed just a step behind, gun held casually behind his back between clasped hands.

"Mr. Swanson. How lovely of you to drop by." He said in his blandest voice. He watched the man startle for a second, then collect himself.

"Mr. Holmes." He responded with a nod. His sole focus on Sherlock.

"Ah…heard of me then. Then this should go quicker than usual."

"I read the blog. Had a feeling I might catch your attention and it's always best to be prepared. But where is the deer stalker?" He baited.

Sherlock had to fight the urge to twitch at that last comment, but he refused to be goaded. He ignored the remark and asked conversationally, "And you're not concerned?"

"I didn't leave any evidence, well, any _usable_ evidence." Swanson responded cockily.

"Very true. Although you seemed to have missed a key factor." He smirked, "We've just caught you in the act. Come now, even you must have enough brain cells to understand when you've been beaten. The police are on their way as we speak."

"Liar. Bold,_ arrogant_ Sherlock Holmes call for back up? Please." He scoffed.

_He really has read the blog…leave it to john to paint me in such an unflattering light. It's not arrogance if I __**deserve **__it. Not that it hasn't come in handy. It does help to be underestimated. _Just then he heard the one sound he'd been waiting for since he had sprung from hiding, and broke off his own reverie to focus back in on the task at hand.

Sherlock made certain his voice remained impassive. "Listen for yourself then."

The confidence seeped out of Swanson's face slowly as the sound of sirens began to be audible. Sherlock watched the realisation that they were mere minutes away dawn on his face like a sunrise. The man was looking desperate now, and in a flash he pulled a gun out of his coat and pointed it at Sherlock. His eyes looked determined, but he held it with shaking, inexperienced hands.

John, who had been making himself inconspicuous thus far, took his cue and pulled out his own gun._ He_ was certainly experienced and his hands were tremor free. He took a step forward. Swanson looked at him startled, as though he had only just realized John was there. _Why do they never notice him there? I know the world is full if simpletons, but surely it's obvious he's more than he seems. A man of action._

"Put the gun down. Now." John's voice was authoritative and deadly calm.

"You have a gun? But…what? You're a doctor!" He gasped in surprise, but kept the gun where it was.

"_Army_ doctor. Now put it down. You wouldn't be the first man I've shot for this mad git. So do the smart thing, and come quietly. The police will be a lot nicer than me if you pull that trigger."

The sirens had progressively gotten closer during this stand-off, and now, they were almost upon them. With one last desperate look between, Swanson dropped his gun. Sherlock smirked and john stepped up to him swiftly, kicking away the gun and hiding his own in the back of his jeans as he walked. Then he had Swanson pinned on the ground with his arm twisted behind his back before the criminal had time to think.

"Told you this one was clever John! He actually dropped the weapon, definitely an eight. Despite how easy it was to catch him." Sherlock's voice was equal parts smug bastard and gleeful child as he paced about excitedly.

"Yeah, yeah…" John mumbled under his breath, stifling a yawn. He didn't want Swanson getting any ideas.

**A/N Gotta love arrogant Sherlock and BAMF John! So, I've realised I haven't really given you any idea what the crime was, or even what the setting of this story is…yikes! Sorry about that. I did warn you about my bad habits last chapter…I'll do my best to give some answers in the next chapter. Why not edit this now and add them in the first two chapters, you ask? Because I'm a procrastinator. That's why.**

**Review! It makes my whole day brighter! And definitely makes my stories/writing better lol**


	3. Chapter 3

"What were you thinking Sherlock? Do you have any idea how much paperwork your little impromptu meetings with criminals require!?" Lestrade asked, practically hysterical. Sherlock had been talking him around in circles for ten minutes now, and still no real answers. Typical behaviour, but still frustrating for the put-upon Detective Inspector.

"This is becoming tiresome, Lestrade." Sherlock chided. "I already told you, _you_ said you needed evidence, here it is." He said as if speaking to a particularly simple minded child.

Lestrade could be so tedious. Sherlock tuned him out almost immediately. Instead, he was watching John. An excellent opportunity to strengthen his peripheral vision. _Definitely not because he was concerned about John. Definitely not. _

John had slipped away almost the second the police descended on the scene. It was strange to Sherlock, who loved to draw the eyes of anyone in a 100-mile radius, that John should choose not to. He could be every inch as enigmatic as Sherlock, yet he preferred to blend in to the background like he was average. Like he was just people. _Ridiculous._

It appeared as though john had made himself comfortable crouched against a wall, and had nodded off. But something was off. When John slept, his face looked young, childlike. Not this time. This time, his face seemed to have aged. Nightmare, still early stages. Intervention at this time would have a 73.4 % chance of success. Acceptable.

Sherlock dropped all pretence of paying attention to Lestrade and headed towards John. He had a small window of opportunity. John's nightmares tended to escalate quickly.

"Oi! Where are you going, freak! D.I. Lestrade wasn't finished talking to you."

Anderson. Snivelling prat. Always getting in the way.

"I have more important things to attend to." He said, glaring haughtily.

"What are you blathering on about? Never mind, just go be a good little freak and finish debriefing."

"For the last time, Anderson. I have more important-"

A shout from John drew everyone's attention. Blast it all. Into the central theme of the nightmare now…success rate of intervention: 15.6%. Unacceptable. Best route would be to distract the yarders and allow John the time to wake up on his own.

"Christ Sherlock, some friend you are. Just standing there, letting the man embarrass himself instead of waking him up." Sally Donovan shouted over, snapping Sherlock's attention. She must have already been standing very close to John when he'd called out in his sleep. No time for distraction tactics, she was already leaning over John to wake him. He had to move quickly.

**A/N I'm having a burst of creative energies tonight, probably because I have a thousand other things I should be doing right now… **

**Anyways, chapter 3! Didn't wind up giving you any more details about the case, it's not really the focus of the plot, and besides, this way we can all use are imagination! *cough* totally a cop-out *cough cough* **

**Please review! I live for your feedback!**


	4. Chapter 4

John woke up swinging. He would have knocked Donovan back a week if Sherlock hadn't materialized next to her in the nick of time to block the blow. John swung again, but Sherlock was relatively practiced at this, and was able to avoid it. The first time he'd made the mistake of waking John up mid-nightmare, he'd earned himself quite the black eye. Nowadays, he knew what to do. He grabbed Johns arm and shoved the struggling soldier into the wall, using his arm twisted behind his back to keep him in place.

"John…John, it's me. It's Sherlock. You're in London. John, just relax." John struggled for a bit, but eventually he stilled as reality began to settle back in.

"Sherlock? 'Nother nightmare?" He questioned dazedly.

"Yes John, you were woken up, mid-nightmare, before I could prevent it." It was unspoken, but the _so it wasn't my fault this time _hung in the air for a second anyway.

"Am I…am I in a jewellery store surrounded by Yarders!" He stammered, his face turning the most fascinating shade of red Sherlock had ever seen.

"Well of course john," He said, stepping away from the shorter man, satisfied he was firmly back to reality. "Where else would you be? As I said, you were woken up, _by Donovan,_ and I interceded before you knocked the stupid woman out cold. I did try to get to you first, but the_ Simpleton_" A nasty glare towards Anderson, "stopped me en route."

"Oh great, just perfect. I've made a perfect arse of myself in front of all these people." John said, shaking his head in disbelief at his misfortune.

Sherlock could see he was mortified, by he didn't understand why. Who cares what the Yarders did or didn't think about him? He scanned the scene for a second, taking in everyone's expressions. Lestrade was looking equal parts concerned, shocked, and guilty. Perfect, Sherlock could get John home to bed.

"On the bright side this incident has guilted Lestrade into finally letting us head home." He announced to John, hoping to stop the head shaking and muttering. It worked, John looked up at him, his tired eyes full of the hope of a cuppa and his bed.

"I didn't say that," Lestrade spluttered.

"But you were going to." Sherlock stated smugly.

Before Sherlock could pull him away, John turned to Donovan, "I'm very sorry if I gave you a bit of a shock. Wont happen again." Donovan just stared in return for a few seconds, then gave a slight nod.

As they began to head towards the door, Sherlock overheard Donavan say to the Cretin, "Did you see the way he talked him down…how do you reckon he managed that?"

Sherlock smirked and shouted behind him, "I AM capable of taking care of my blogger. After all, I'd be _lost_ without him." He called over his shoulder as he swept dramatically away, pushing John along with him.

**A/N So the closest I've ever come to a case fic! I'm actually quite proud of myself haha Didn't have much time to edit this, but I'll try and fix up any mistakes tonight. **

**Tell me your opinion! Reviews make my world go round :) **


	5. Chapter 5

**/Epilogue\**

Sherlock practically hauled John up the stairs to their flat. He was buzzing with a post-case high, and absolutely bound and determined to focus that energy on the exhausted doctor. The man was dead on his feet as they entered the flat, though he did attempt to protest when Sherlock shoved him down into his chair.

"I'd really rather go to b-"

"Hush John, I'm trying to think." Sherlock cut in.

Now, what did John normally do to relax when he was tired? Tea! Of course, how had he not thought of it sooner?

"You just sit right there John, I'm going to make you some tea!" He said, flashing an excited smile before he dashed off into the kitchen. _Right, making tea. Should be easy enough_. He'd been in the kitchen just the other day when john was making some. He rewound his memory to that moment and took note of the required step. _Heat the water, poor into mug over teabag. John takes a touch of milk. No sugar_. He set to work.

When it was done, he brought it back out to John, who had apparently fallen asleep in the chair while Sherlock had been busy in the kitchen. Well that wouldn't do. _How can I take care of John if he's asleep?_ The answer was obvious. Wake him up. He gave Johns shoulder a firm shake and John startled awake.

"I made you tea John!" He pronounced, holding the cup out with pride.

"hmm? You made…tea?" John asked groggily, instinctively taking the cup from Sherlock. He took a tentative sip, then looked up at Sherlock. "Thanks."

"Not a problem John. Not a problem. I_ can_ take care of you, you know. Despite what Donovan and Anderson seem to think. _Idiots._ Can you believe the Yarders hadn't believed me about Mr. Swanson? I mean, it was obvious! Didn't they even_ look_ at his shirt sleeves! And that callous on his hand! A dead give-away…" And just like that, Sherlock was off on a rant. John tried to follow, but his eyes kept drooping, only to be shocked back open every so often by a particularly loud exclamation from his barmy roommate.

Eventually, Sherlock had ranted and paced himself into a slightly less manic mood, and he had the thought to look at the time. He was shocked to see it had become rather late.

"John! It's gotten so late! You really ought to have gone to bed ages ago! What were you thinking staying up like this after your incident at the crime scene?" He reprimanded.

"But Sher-" John stammered.

"No, now no fussing, you're heading to bed, and that's_ that_." Sherlock interrupted, taking the mug out of John's hands and hoisting him onto unsteady feet. He immediately set about bustling the harassed man up the stairs to his room. Once there, John tiredly stripped down to his pants, and practically fell onto the bed.

Sherlock was rather impressed with himself when he remembered to pull up the covers over John. His blogger would be much more comfortable that way. Then he turned out the lights and headed back downstairs. John was asleep before he reached the light switch.

Sherlock was very pleased with himself as he settled into his thinking pose for the night. He'd certainly taken exemplary care of his army doctor. _What would he do without me?_

**A/N Just a little bonus chapter! Poor John, Sherlock's 'help' can be a little, well, **_**un**_**helpful at times…**

**So, I figured this fic was finished, but the fantastic Januscars requested more, and who am I to say no? haha so this is for you JC! **

**Hope you all enjoyed it :) Review and let me know! **

**Actually done for real this time…I think…oh who am I kidding? Nothing I write is ever **_**really**_** non-negotiable-y done! lol**


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